Puppy Love
by Demus
Summary: Arthur is depressed. Ford gives him a present to cheer him up. Sickeningly cute PWP for Les Lapins Mauvais, who wanted something fluffy to cheer her up. Not relly slashy at all. gasp


Disclaimer- Not mine. Never has been, never will be.

Sickeningly cute PWP for Les Lapins Mauvais, who wanted something fluffy to cheer her up.

* * *

In his sleeping quarters on board the _Heart of Gold_ Arthur Dent was staring into space. He was sat cross-legged with his back against the wall, his eyes fixed on the large window he'd only just discovered behind a plastic screen. The utter vastness of the Universe filled his sight and his meandering thoughts dallied and danced amongst the riotous blazing glory of the billions of stars, playing a cosmic game of tag with the swirling gaseous tendrils of history. 

The human sighed, slumping forwards a little. Never in his life had he dreamed that such wonders could surround him. Never had he imagined that the galaxies were just a hitched ride away. Never had it occurred to him that the mindless enormity of the Universe could be anything less than absolutely amazing. It was occurring to him now. After the initial 'Sweet Mary Mother of God!' reaction, he'd discovered that one went through the following stages-

1. Astonishment- 'Gosh, isn't this something?'  
2. Adjustment- 'Hmmm, that start looks a bit like the one next to it, I wonder if I might be able to find some tea…'  
3. Apathy- 'I'm so bored I want to gouge my eyes out.'  
4. Acceptance- 'Well, this isn't so bad, at least it doesn't involve my freaky alien abductors.'

Stage Four had just settled happily into his consciousness. Despite the deadly tedium, he was quite enjoying the fact that no one was shoving fish in his ears or trying to make him go to parties that he wouldn't enjoy or making him run around in unfamiliar situations where people were shooting or blowing things up. The multiple near-death experiences that made up to alternative to the monotony were too horrible to consider. He'd tried explaining this to an incredulous Ford Prefect at one point, but the alien had simply raised an eyebrow and said, "But as long as its only 'near' death, what's the problem?"

It didn't seem worth the effort to point out that, to Arthur's way of thinking, adrenaline was an unnecessary and unwelcome chemical and all it achieved was undue stress and trauma. Arthur sighed again. He was having not a bad enough time, he decided. He was probably due his daily dose of mind-boggling terror, something that was evidently essential to the continuation of existence in the Universe because it seemed to happen to everyone all the time. These daily doses of terror were usually sparked off by the arrival of the person that Arthur deemed solely responsible for the whole thing. This case was no exception.

With absolutely no warning at all, Ford Prefect breezed lightly into the room. He waltzed over to where the human had been enjoying his moment of philosophical nothingness and plopped himself down next to his friend. "Hi," he greeted the Englishman, leaning back against the wall and linking his hands behind his head.

Arthur grunted non-committally. It didn't often work, but through long experience he knew that outright ignoring the Betelgeusian was about as useful as attempting to introduce a Vogon to sophistication. And Arthur's inbred courtesy wouldn't allow him to be so rude, even if it was to the alien.

Ford nudged him with his knee. "Hi," he repeated, persistently.

"Hello."

"Aw, its no fun when you cave so easily," the shorter man grinned. "Come on, try and hold out for a bit longer!"

The Earthman groaned. "Ford…"

"Yes Arthur?"

He gave up. "Never mind."

The manic grin widened and Ford turned his attention to the window, whistling a merry Betelgeusian folk song. It concerned the most famous merciless slaughtering festival native to Betelgeuse Five- every five years hundreds of the planet's inhabitants would dress in their traditional swimsuits and traditionally sharpen their traditional rusty knives. After that, they would traditionally hunt down the parasitic cute furry animals that lived in the forests before traditionally stripping off for the traditional orgy. Not many traditions were important on Betelgeuse Five, but the ritual-butchering holiday was one of the most highly regarded ones. Somehow, Ford thought, Arthur wouldn't appreciate learning the origin of the pretty little tune, but it was sufficiently cheery and annoying to stick in the human's head for days afterwards whilst simultaneously irritating the bejeesus out of him.

The Betelgeusian glanced from the window to his friend, who had lapsed into silence. Arthur now had his elbows resting on his knees and his hands cupping his chin. He looked thoroughly morose and was staring glumly at the passing stars. An air of dejected misery circled the human like gossip circles a politician. And Ford's grin faded a little as he wondered what had sent Arthur into this black mood. He considered asking him, but thought better of it. His ears weren't up to a shrieking match at the moment. He remembered their last pit stop, an hour ago on the planet of Arctura, and he came to a decision. He stood, briskly brushing off his clothes, and dramatically left the room without a word. Arthur blinked.

He blinked again when a few minutes later, Ford made an equally dramatic re-entrance, clutching something to his chest. The Betelgeusian marched over to the human and plonked himself back down, turning to drop a squirming bundle into Arthur's lap. "Here," he said, carelessly. "I got you a puppy. I thought it might cheer you up."

Arthur looked down at the wriggling mass of fur in his lap. As far as he could see, it looked like a normal, healthy, eight-week-old beagle puppy. Granted it had two feelers sticking out the top of its head and it was a strange silver blue colour, but it was quite cute all the same. It had oversized feet and ears, completely out of proportion with the rest of its body, and it moved with the typical clumsiness that made all baby animals completely endearing. Tentatively, Arthur stroked the soft fur of its head and it obligingly rolled onto its back to get a better look at him. Huge liquid brown eyes gazed up at him and the puppy yawned as it snuggled into the warm plaid material of the dressing gown.

Ford was unable to hold back a smile as the human tickled the little dog's chest. Sometimes human beings were far too easy, he thought. Just give them something furry and adorable and they're completely lost.

The Earthman looked up at Ford, his brow furrowed. "Where…? Why…? How…?" Having passed through the three main stages of civilisation, Arthur was once again distracted by the puppy, which was curling up to go to sleep now that it had found somewhere warm and comfortable. "Thanks," the Englishman said, entranced by the little creature.

Ford watched the pup's eyes drowsily closing. "She's an Arcturan megapuppy," he said. "When she's fully grown she'll be as big as a horse. And once she's imprinted on you she'll ferociously kill anything that behaves in a hostile manner towards you."

"Oh, that's good," Arthur replied, absently. "What does that do?"

The Betelgeusian shook his head. Something told him that they'd have to miss their usual helping of unspeakable fear for today. Well, they could always make up for it tomorrow.


End file.
